The Altar at Which I Pray
by howlin4you
Summary: Levi x Reader. Levi reflects on how his lover makes him feel, the demons as they leave at each touch and breath they release. **Lemon


I don't own AOT!

It's by her touch, the softest brush of her fingertips over my shoulders. The feathery way she reaches her palms around my back, pressing slightly into the flesh and indenting her prints into me. It's by her touch that I can breathe anymore. It's her touch that keeps me standing. Those fingers that keep me sane brush tenderly down my chest as I dip low to meet my lips against hers. The softness of them contrasts to the rigid texture of my own and I instantly feel myself melting into the warmth. She doesn't hesitate as she opens up her mouth, allowing me entrance and free reign to explore. I trace the familiar patterns, re-memorizing every inch as she softly moans into my mouth, the vibrations making me stifle my own groan. Her hands move from my chest to my neck, she also traces the familiar patterns of my body. Her fingers align familiarly around me and the feeling brings out the usual feeling of relief. The typicalness of her touches are anything but mundane, they're exciting and they release me from the prison of my own life I've been stuck in all day long.

She reaches her arms fully around my neck as she clasps her hands together, breaking away from my mouth for air. Not hesitating, I bring my mouth down to her jaw, tracing the lines of bone under her soft (s/c) skin up to her ear. She moves her head to the side, allowing me to move on to the warm skin of her neck. My breaths are already coming out shallow as I inhale her scent. The way she moves her head to allow me better access elicits a fire inside of me that I could never describe out loud.

Warmth radiates from all over her already naked body and envelopes me from underneath. I press myself against her slightly as I continue to litter hungry kisses and bites over every inch of her neck and shoulder. She arches her hips up against me, letting out a moan of satisfaction as she does so. At her action, I can't stifle the deep groan that reverberates through my chest and out my mouth into her shoulder. I grip her hips tightly with my hands, bringing them up to meet me even closer. Our pelvises grind into each other and her hands move to press her nails and leave crescent patterns on my back.

She whispers my name, arching her back again as if she's trying to mold herself into me. I allow it, pushing myself and taking a deep breath, feeling her heat so intimately on me. I move my mouth to hers again, one hand moving up to her face to touch the skin of her cheek and then tangling my fingers in her hair. I pull her head gently, tilting it and kissing her harder. She whimpers softly into the kiss and I know that I've tortured the both of us enough. Pulling my lips from hers, I lift my hips up and position myself to slide smoothly into her. It's a practiced ritual, a smooth operating machine that no matter how many times it's operated, never gets old. It's always new, each time a new feeling of exploration, a new thought of the ways I need her surrounding me.

Her back arches and her mouth opens, a silent cry dying in her throat. Her hands grip my shoulders and I have to bite my tongue at the feeling of being inside of her. I place my forehead to hers as she hangs onto me, moving my hips up and down in a steady rhythm. Her eyes are shut tightly as she moves with me in time, her mouth agape as she tries to control the noises threatening to escape. I move my head near her ear again, whispering things I can't even comprehend to her. The words I say entice the beautiful sounds out of her mouth as she tilts her head back, whispering mumbled words of pleasure as I increase my pace. I can tell her head is spinning by the way she grips me and her words become incoherent. The soft flesh of her ample breasts hit my chest as I move, the quickening pace making them bounce and move against me.

The combination of sensations makes me grip her hips harshly, and I know that surely there will be bruises in the morning, but I can't comprehend the thought as I relentlessly continue to thrust. Louder and louder her sounds become as I feel her coming undone. The tips of her fingers press harshly into my shoulders as her body arches up, her back twisting unnaturally as her head falls back, my name falling out of her mouth in a high pitched sound. Her walls tightening none to gently around me and the sounds coming from her mouth send my body into overdrive and I can no longer conceal my own sounds as they escape from my throat. I drive my lips onto hers forcefully, drowning my long groan into her mouth, my hips moving at their own accord as I drive the last of my energy inside of her.

I collapse as gently as I can on top of her, knowing how she loves the feeling of my weight on her, as her hands snake tiredly around the middle of my back. She attempts to regulate her breathing as I rest my head between her breasts. I hear as her heart goes from rapid to calming, her breathing regulating slowly. Pressing my lips into the valley of her chest I can't help but feel clean again. I feel washed of all stress and death. I feel free from the binds of everyday life, my confessions left hanging in her mouth and spread in red marks across her neck. My confession, my altar, her body is my temple. She is the platform of my nightly prayers, the deity of my own religion.


End file.
